by Cynthia Eden
“If you die, you can’t rise. You can’t come back to me.”
She caught his hand and pressed it over her heart. “I won’t leave you.” Didn’t he understand? She’d been trying to protect him for so long. The story, the press, the days with the cops—all of it had been to protect him.
But he’d come back. Even though he could have just vanished, he’d found her. He’d put himself at risk for her.
“You deserve better.” His words were gritted out.
And Cain deserved more than hell and madness.
“I want you.” As she stared into his eyes, she saw the wildness flare. Saw the struggle for him to hold on to his control.
Screw control. For them both. Maybe they should rely a little less on control and more on need. Lust.
Trust.
Love?
She pushed him back.
Cain’s eyes widened and he began to shake his head. “Eve . . .”
Did he think she was telling him no? She’d never tell him no. Not Cain. Not her dark lover.
Not the man who’d walked through hell for her. Literally.
She dropped to her knees before him. She didn’t fear his beast. Didn’t fear the man.
He’d given her pleasure before, held himself back to make sure the wild rush was hers. Now, it was her turn.
Her hands reached for the snap of his jeans. The zipper eased down between her fingers.
No underwear. But then, Cain wasn’t exactly the type for silk boxers.
His cock pushed toward her, fully erect, the head already gleaming with a drop of moisture. The width of his cock was easily bigger than her wrist. Wide, long.
She licked her lips—then she licked him.
His breath hissed out even as his hands lowered to wrap around her shoulders. “You don’t have to—”
Another slow lick. Then she eased back, just enough to look up into his eyes. “I want to.” Still meeting his eyes, she kissed his flesh again. Opened her lips. Her tongue tasted the moisture on the tip of his arousal.
Tangy. Masculine.
She’d be having more, please.
Her mouth widened even as her left hand circled the base of his erection. She took his cock between her lips, sucked lightly, and pumped with her hand.
His fingers tightened on her shoulders. His hips pushed toward her. So eager.
She liked him this way. Cain didn’t need to worry about control. Right then, she had it.
It took Eve a moment to realize that her own hips were rocking up with each stroke of her tongue over his flesh.
Tasting him turned her on so much.
She took him deeper into her mouth. Learned where he liked for her to lick. To suck.
“Eve . . .” There was a warning note in his voice.
She ignored the warning. Story of her life.
She ignored the growl and the hard hands on her shoulders and she gave him pleasure—even as she pleasured herself. She took more, deeper, loving the feel of him within her mouth.
“No more!” Cain’s hands pushed her back. “I . . . can’t . . . wait . . .”
She didn’t want him to wait. Eve reached for him again.
In a flash, Cain had her on the bed. Her robe, a loaner from the hotel, was tossed across the room. He had her flat on her back with her legs spread, his hands holding hers to the bed.
His cock pushed against her sex. “You’re wet.”
More like soaking, but she wasn’t going to argue. Eve arched her hips. “Now.” She could be demanding, too.
She’d sure missed him over the last two weeks.
Cain thrust into her. He groaned. She moaned. And it was wonderful. Perfect. He filled her core, stretched her, sent pulses of pleasure rushing through her.
Then he started to move. Thrusting and withdrawing. Her legs locked around his hips and she held on for that wild ride.
Control was long gone, for both of them. There was no restraint. Only need. A desperate passion driving them toward a release that couldn’t wait.
Her nails dug into his skin. His mouth pressed against her throat.
“Mine.” Cain’s growl, but it could have been hers. She’d thought of him as hers for so long.
Eve stopped thinking in the next instant. Pleasure hit her. Not a ripple. Not a wave. A freaking avalanche of pleasure that had the air freezing in her lungs as her whole body seemed to explode.
Cain was with her. His hold tightened on her. He drove deeper into her and shuddered with his release.
A person could die from that much pleasure. So . . . good.
Eve held him, riding out the climax, knowing only the strong feel of his body against hers and the frantic pounding of their heartbeats.
When Cain finally rose above her, Eve’s hands tightened instinctively around him. She didn’t want him going anywhere. Couldn’t they just pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist? For a little while? Was that too much to ask?
She blinked open her eyes and found him staring at her. Watching her with a look she’d never seen before. “Cain? What is it?”
His fingers trailed over her arm, even as he kept his cock within her. “I should have left you.”
Well, damn. Her brows snapped together. “Dude, pillow talk does not start this way.”
It was his turn to blink. When she began to squirm underneath him—seriously, his timing was shit—he tightened his hold on her and held her still. “That’s not what I . . . dammit, I just don’t want you hurt because of me!”
She stared at him. “You haven’t hurt me.” Not even when he came back from the fire.
“Genesis kept files on me. The government has copies of all those experiments. Do you think they’re just gonna let me walk away?”
“If they’re smart, yes, they will.” She’d gotten the impression from the FBI agents who’d visited her that—well, they were afraid of Subject Thirteen.
They hadn’t exactly looked eager to walk into Cain’s fire. They could be smarter than Wyatt.
Cain’s gaze was so deep. “I don’t want you hurt.”
“I won’t be.” The promise seemed easy enough to give. Especially when she was wrapped in his arms. “Look, I might not be able to die and come back like you, but I’m strong, Cain.” He should have seen that.
“I know.” His lips brushed over hers. “That’s why I want you so much.”
Want. Need. Lust. There was plenty of that between them. Did she dare mention that for her, there was more?
Love.
Eve wasn’t sure when the phoenix had burned his way into her heart. He had, though. She thought about him all the time. Wanted to protect him. Wanted to make love with him, of course, but she also just wanted . . .
“I want to go to the beach.” The words were silly, but they came out anyway.
Cain frowned down at her.
“I want to see you in the sunlight,” she told him and smiled at the image in her mind. “I want to see you in the sand. Without fire. Without danger. Without anything but us.” He’d smile then, she was sure of it. She’d get to hear him laugh.
They could just be a man and a woman.
She wanted to see what Cain looked like when he was happy. “Can’t we just be normal?” she whispered to him.
His gaze held hers. There was a flash in his eyes. Longing. She knew that look.
Pain.
No, wait. She hadn’t meant that she wanted him to be normal. She loved him as he was. Fire and all. She’d just wanted—
The phone rang. They both tensed and glanced at the bedside table.
“Probably more reporters,” Cain said, voice rumbling.
Eve shook her head. No, there were only a few people who knew she’d be there. She reached for the phone, even as she stayed in Cain’s arms.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Bradley?”
Detective Roberts. She recognized his voice instantly. “What’s happened?” If he was calling her, there had to be a problem.
“There
Hell. Her fingers clamped around the phone as she stared back at Cain. He was so close he had to have heard the cop’s words. “You’re sure it was Trace?” There were other werewolves out there, even ones who attacked. They could get pissed off, just like anyone else. Actually, they got pissed more than most folks.
Werewolves weren’t exactly known for their peaceful natures.
“Witness described a white male, said he was about six foot five . . .”
When she’d seen Trace in that lab, he had been that big. Before, he’d been skirting six feet.
“Fangs, claws bursting from his fingers—”
Still, that could be—
“And he was shouting your name.”
Okay, that narrowed it down. “I’m coming.”
“No, you aren’t. I’m giving you this call as a warning. The guy is here in the city, and he’s hunting you. I told you that you needed protection.”
Eve’s eyes were on Cain. He reached for the phone. “She has protection.”
“Who is this?” Roberts demanded.
“Her protection.”
“Leave that job to the cops, buddy.”
“If I do that, you’ll all just die.” Brutal words. True words. “I’m coming for the wolf.”
Eve straightened her shoulders. No, they were coming.
Cain hung up the phone.
Her heart was still beating too fast.
“Eve . . .”
“I want to try and save him.” She didn’t know how yet. She just had to try. “Cain, I was alone my whole life, okay? After my parents died . . .” Because of Genesis and Wyatt’s twisted father “. . . I never felt like I had any family. Until Trace.”
Cain’s jaw tightened. He eased from her body. Dressed in silence.
So did she. “He was the closest thing to a brother I ever had. Trace always had my back. He watched out for me, and I watched out for him.”
Cain was staring at her. Just . . . waiting.
“I can’t give up on him.” She wouldn’t. “We can help him.” Someway. If some toxic mix of drugs had made him like this, there had to be a drug combination that could pull him back.
“We’ll help him,” Cain agreed.
Yes.
“We’ll contain him and make sure that he doesn’t hurt any humans.”
Right. Containment, then cure. They could do this.
“But if he turns on you, Eve, if he tries to kill you . . .”
She shook her head. “It’s not coming to that.” Even she knew the words were a lie. He’d already tried to kill her twice.
But she still saw him as the seventeen-year-old boy she’d found on the side of the road. Alone. Just as lost as she was.
They’d needed each other.
They’d become a family.
You didn’t turn your back on family.
Because of that, because she had to have hope for Trace, Eve asked, “Do the tears of a phoenix . . . can they really heal?”
Cain glanced up at her. His gaze was hooded.
“Wyatt . . . said that he wasn’t able to make you cry.” No matter what torture the sick freak had used. “But he thought your tears could heal . . .”
Maybe they could heal Trace. Maybe they wouldn’t need drugs to bring the werewolf back to them.
Cain shook his head, and the hope of a swift healing died within Eve. “Those stories have always been out there, the whispers that my kind can heal.” His lips twisted. “But the thing is . . . those tales are freaking bull. We can’t cry.”
Eve stared at him.
“Wyatt tried, all right. Every trick he could think of. No matter how much pain he gave me, it didn’t work. The bastard even came up with some scientific shit about my tear ducts being abnormal, non-functioning. Hell yeah, they’re non-functioning . . . my eyes burn with my power. My body doesn’t work like a human’s ’cause I’m not. Never will be.”
She nodded. “I figured he was wrong. I just . . .” Hoped. “We’ll find another way.” There had to be another way.
“I can’t shed tears. There’s no healing power in me. There’s just the beast I carry, Eve. The one who lives for fire and destruction.” Cain stalked toward her, his steps slow and heavy. “There are some other things you need to understand.”
She waited, body full of nervous energy.
“You are my priority. If Trace comes at you with his claws and fangs, I’ll take the werewolf out.”
She’d have to make sure that didn’t happen. Just as she’d have to make sure that she did find a way to cure Trace. A way that didn’t involve a phoenix’s magic.
Eve turned away, grabbing for her bag, but Cain’s fingers closed around her arm. “You aren’t alone.” The words were gruff. “No matter what happens, you won’t be alone.” His lips brushed over hers.
When he stepped back to release her, Eve grabbed his hand. She didn’t know what would happen, but she needed to tell him how she felt. “Cain, I love you.”
He just stared back at her.
She’d been hoping for a better reaction.
Her chin lifted. “And you aren’t alone, either, understand?”
She wasn’t sure he did. The guy looked pretty shell-shocked. Eve smiled at him. Her phoenix. He’d understand, soon enough. She’d make him. “One day, I’m getting you on that beach . . .”
Not today. Today, they had a werewolf to catch.
Eve turned away and headed for the door.
“Why?” His voice was raspy.
“Because you’ll love the sand between your toes.” She got the feeling Cain hadn’t enjoyed many free, fun moments in his life. That was going to change. She’d change it for him.
“No . . . why would you say you loved me?”
She glanced back at him.
“You don’t.” His words seemed so certain. “You can’t.”
It was her turn to ask. “Why not?”
“Because I’m a monster, Eve. I destroy everything around me.”
She kept her face expressionless. He said he was a monster, but he sounded like a lost little boy. He should have known love before this moment.
He’d always know it now.
“You haven’t destroyed me,” she told him softly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “And you won’t.” Then, because she thought he needed to hear the words again and because the guy had better start getting used to the fact, she repeated, “I love you.”
The pain that flashed on his face hurt her heart. It hurt even more when he whispered, “Don’t.”
Didn’t he realize that he deserved to be loved? Everyone did. Once Trace was safe, she’d prove that truth to Cain.
She headed into the hallway. Before she could leave the room, Cain grabbed her hand. “I know another way. A way unwanted guests won’t see.”
Frowning, Eve hesitated.
“I got in without being seen,” Cain said, “and I’ll get out that way, too. We don’t want the Feds following us.”
Or taking a shot at Trace.
“Trust me?” he asked, as he shut the door.
Her breath whispered out, but Eve nodded.
Cain led her back through the balcony door. The wind blew against her, carrying a faint chill. Eve looked down at the steep drop.
I can’t rise.
“No one’s on the floor below you. I made sure of it.” His lips twisted. “I booked the room under an assumed name.”
The room above her and the room below . . . the guy had been prepared.
He wrapped his arms around her. “Just hold on to me.”
She did.
He lifted her up. Stood on the edge of the railing. They fell. The wind whipped past them. One instant—
His body jerked, turning quickly, twisting impossibly in midair.
Then they were on solid ground. On the balcony just below her room. Eve could only shake her head. The man just kept being full of surprises.
“My reflexes aren’t exactly human . . .”
Nothing about him was . . . and she loved him for that. Eve didn’t want an average guy. She wanted Cain.
He led the way through the dark to the room’s main door. The door clicked open. Cain and Eve eased into the hallway. Instead of heading for the big elevator on the right, Cain guided her to the staff elevator nestled just a few feet away. He pulled a key card from his pocket and swiped it over the access pad. The door slid open.
“You’re a handy guy,” she told him, impressed. Cain had definitely thought of everything.
He’d make for a fantastic reporter . . . or a criminal.
One brow rose. “This elevator will take us to the hotel’s back entrance. Staff only. We should be able to leave without anyone seeing us.”
One problem solved. Now, if they could just stop a raging werewolf, well, then they’d be set.
Getting to the club district was easy enough. Finding the cops—yeah, another easy task. They just looked for the flashing blue lights and the crowd of people.
There were no bodies on the ground, but Eve saw two men getting bandaged and loaded into the back of an ambulance. Another ambulance had already left—they’d passed it when they arrived.
There was still blood in the street.
Eve and Cain hung back, blending into the crowd of spectators. She wished she had a shifter’s sense of smell so that she could find Trace but—
Cain inhaled. “That way.”
She had something better. Her own personal phoenix.
They slid back through the crowd, heading for the alley on the left. She felt like dozens of eyes were on her and tensed, glancing back.
But she just saw the crowd. So many faces. They were focused on the blood. The chaos. Not her.
So why was she so sure that she was being watched?
Trace.
Cain’s arm brushed against hers, and Eve almost jumped.
“There.” He pointed into the darkness because, of course, where else would he point? Not like a werewolf would be hiding in the light.
Eve followed him. They headed into the crack between the buildings. Moved away from the crowd. One block. Two. Then . . .
Eve saw the smashed window on the old building that slumped near the corner. Anyone could have smashed that window, though. A vagrant, someone wanting some shelter from the night.
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